


Fortress

by ihighlydoubtthat



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Childhood Memories, Established Relationship, M/M, Tim is fucking cute and we should all have one, featuring the world's briefest handjob, fluff fluff fluff, forgot how to write porn, im rusty as fuck, or write in general actually, so theres this, stoner convo, yeah i don't even know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-09 10:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihighlydoubtthat/pseuds/ihighlydoubtthat
Summary: This is... yeah I don't even know what this is. Our boys get stoned and talk about memories from a life that may or may not have existed. It's fluffy and quite a bit different to what I've written previously because apparently I've lost the inability to write porn. Trust me, I spent weeks trying and lost patience, which why there's this fast, unedited smush fest.





	Fortress

**Author's Note:**

> _I love you in a place where there's no space or time._

“What the hell is that?” 

Armie let the door slam closed behind him, an armful of cold beer dampening the sleeve of his jumper as he stared in confusion at the state of his apartment. What had been a set of pristine leather couches and an antique coffee table when he left an hour ago, had become a snow drift of sheets and blankets taken from god knows what rooms, draped over the furniture and pinned with uncertain stability by cushions of all shapes and sizes. 

He watched as one after the other, Tim’s feet appeared from under the largest canopy. Then his ass, jeans falling down, and finally his back and head unfolding to standing point. He brushed the hair from his eyes and propped a hand on his hip, taking a step back to admire the upheaval. 

“What do you think?” He shone. The tone of someone who had tried their absolute best and still ended up with the worst looking cake at the school bake sale. “It’s not really finished but-”

“My lounge looks like a Chinese laundrette, Chalamet- can I not leave you alone for five minutes?” Armie walked over to the fridge and unloaded all but two beers- uncapping the lids and passing one to Tim. He swigged greedily as if the mess he’d managed to make had taken all the effort in the world. It had.

He smiled softly and swung an arm up around Armie’s neck, watching with joy the irrepressible happiness that came over him. The look that let him know he could get away with murder and his sheet theivery and a little creative flare was already forgiven. “It was a whole hour, actually. You know I’m nothing but mischief…” Tim kissed the stubble of Armie’s cheek with cold, beer-quenched lips and traced them up to the base of his ear. “Happy birthday, Mr. Hammer,” he whispered before taking the lobe between his teeth with a tenderness that shot straight to Armie’s crotch. Tim’s ability to reduce him to nothing but a mass of sensitive organs was unparalleled. 

He set his drink down and raked both sets of fingers through Tim’s brunette curls, forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “I told you I didn’t need anything, baby. Least of all a contemporary art installation in the space my couch used to be...” 

“Look, alright,” Tim let go and turned to face the centre of the room, linking their fingers. “I know it’s not pretty but it’s better on the inside…” 

“Like you, you mean,” Armie jabbed him in the ribs until he giggled.

“No, not like me,” Tim started, rolling his eyes and taking the few strides toward a large dangling blanket that stood as high as his waist. “_I’m_ pretty all over.” He cocked an eyebrow and watched Armie’s face soften in defeat.

“Who told you that?” Armie sidled up close to him, looking down and knowing full well that a day hadn’t passed in as long as he could remember where he hadn’t told Tim how beautiful he was. Where he hadn’t looked at him and thought that if the world stopped turning and there was nothing left to hold on to, the green of his eyes would be the last thing he’d choose to remember. He was thinking this, not for the first time and moving his mouth to a kiss when-

“Get in.” Tim had lifted a corner of the blanket and seemed quite convinced that absolutely nothing would go wrong upon inviting a six foot five man inside something that stood barely as tall as his hips and surely had the structural integrity of a card house. 

“What do you want me to do, fold myself in half?” Armie laughed.

“God dammit it, Armie!” Tim hit him with the back of his hand. “I’m trying to do something fucking nice for you,” shoved him, “just fucking let me!” He sighed, frustrated with Armie’s perpetual inability to accept kindness. 

“I know you never got to do this when you were a kid,” Tim started, an explanation he was hoping to avoid delivering. “Build forts and stuff. I did it all the time, and it was fun, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought back and wished you’d been with me then. Wished we’d grown up together.” Armie pulled him close. “But… you’re with me _now_ so… I figured….”

Armie planted his mouth onto the top of Tim’s head. Breathed in and out and felt guilty for not taking him seriously in the first place. The smell of him, something like home and pride, brought the world to a still and his whole body relaxed. He remembered the time he’d said out loud, in front of journalists and a kid that he didn’t realise he was in love with, that they’d spent so much time together, he’d somehow planted Tim into his childhood memories. 

“Tim,” he started, moving Tim to look at him and trace a thumb along his cheekbone. “I’m sorry. This is adorable, really, and I absolutely want to get in there with you but… are you sure I’ll fit?” 

It was less of a struggle than he imagined. Sure, his head grazed the ‘ceiling’ but actually, there was room enough to sit side by side and, as it turned out, to lean back on the strategically placed pillows- albeit with both their feet poking out of the entrance. 

Tim propped himself up on an elbow and kissed Armie deeply, hooking a knee over his thigh and feeling the pressure of his own jeans against himself. 

“Oh… so it’s _this_ kind of fort…” Armie spoke, barely breaking the kiss. He tugged gently at the front of Tim’s t-shirt, pulling him closer and letting his hunger grow with every tap of that tongue against his own. 

“It is, but it’s also _this_ kind of fort…” he tested, retrieving a slightly battered joint from his pocket and rolling it between two fingers.

Armie beamed. “Oh _good boy._” He took it but to Tim’s surprise, placed it at a safe distance from them and turned back to face him. “Kissing first, smoking later.” He palmed at Tim with no apology. Took his mouth with more desperation and feeling the surge of Tim against him, unhooked the button of his jeans. He was half hard within moments and Armie’s own cock began to object to its confines. 

“You only want me for my body…” Tim drawled happily- his head tilted backwards as Armie’s mouth navigated the creamy flesh of his neck. A place he’d happily go to die if he had any choice in the matter. 

“Damn right,” mouth still against skin, Tim’s cock hardening rapidly under his hand. He felt Tim’s fingers find their way to his jeans and undo them- fumbling under the fabric and in a practiced motion, free him from them. The sensation of hot skin wrapped around his cock as it began to ache pathetically the way only Tim could make it, forced a whispered moan from his throat. 

With a desperation he wasn’t proud of, Armie leant up and lay Tim flat- tugging his jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs before taking hold of him properly. He crowded Tim’s body with his own, letting the tremor of their need reverb between them- their knuckles skimming as they worked each other into a thick, wet mess. 

Lighting up in a post orgasmic haze, Armie took stock of what was shaping up to be his favourite birthday yet. Lying next to his best friend, whose shirtless torso was covered in both their come, inside a blanket fort he’d built to try and make up for a part of his life he wasn’t even there for... did it get any better than this? 

“Would we have fooled around in your fort when we were kids?” Armie asked softly, smiling at the side of Tim’s face as he stared at the canopy above. 

It struck Armie suddenly, before Tim had chance to answer, that he wished he could go back and make that happen. He wished that Tim had been the only person he’d ever trusted with his body because he’d known it as well as his own. Because from the moment they knew what it was to feel, they explored everything together. Two boys that believed they invented pleasure, and it was their little secret. 

“I think about it a lot, y’know,” Armie took another drag, before passing the joint to Tim. The fort had become a cloud and he was grateful for it. This den, as far as he was concerned, was the entire universe. Exempt from the confines of time and space- which worked well because that’s the way their relationship had been since day one. Existing in parallel to a story they told about other people. Then existing alongside an entirely separate “real world.” Untouched, untarnished and secret. “Like, what if we’d grown up together. Done our homework together and shit. Played in sandboxes.”

“That would have been so awesome. I bet we’d hang out every day”

“You know we would. Well… up until the point that I hit sixteen and realise I’ve been in love with my best friend for as long as I can remember and kiss you under the bleachers one day. ‘Cause I have to let you know, y’know... that you’re my favourite. You’re my person.”

Tim turned to look at him, silent and sentimental. Suddenly carrying the weight of a life that neither of them got to live. He was shocked, as far as the haze would allow, that Armie had painted such a picture. Largely because it felt like it made complete sense. His words hung silently for longer than Armie had anticipated. Enough time for him to feel ridiculous. 

“Fucking _hell_ I’m high...” he giggled, embarrassed at his confession and refused the joint when Tim went to pass it back. “No no, I think I’m done considering our alternative existence, thanks.” 

“I _am_ your person, Armie.” Tim was touched by the rare shimmer of Armie’s vulnerability and suddenly felt protective. “It sounds weird saying it out loud but... I’m actually pretty convinced I’ve lived other lives with you, y’know?” _Now who sounds high._ “It doesn’t make sense to me that this is it. That this is all we’re allowed. So like… I guess that’s why I just have fun. I’m a rambunctious little shit who forever puts our secret love in jeopardy because I just don’t think this life is the only one we’ve had, or will ever have together.”

Armie stared at him, unsure if Tim was being serious or just trying to appease him. He was, in fact, being deadly serious although he suspected the broad smile on his face would make it seem otherwise.

“Let people think there’s something _not right_ with us. Because there isn’t- and there was never meant to be.” 

He propped himself up and leaned over Armie, who smiled back and tucked a wayward curl behind his ear. Armie felt grateful in that moment that the person he fell in love with was as fucked up as he was. Someone that couldn’t stand knowing him in only one, limited dimension. That he too believed in something more than this mere outline of their existence together. 

In a world that couldn’t handle them, they’d carved out their own- a five by five fortress where time stood still. For once, Armie stopped caring about this being all they could have. Stopped caring about the fact he'd have to sneak Tim out of his apartment in the morning. Stopped caring that someone might see them in a place neither of them should be. Tim was living like none of it mattered- like in some other universe they never grew up. For the first time since the split second before Tim's lips touched his on the grass behind the villa in Crema, Armie felt free. 

He laughed a solitary breath- resigned yet jovial and in complete awe of the man in front of him. He shook his head gently and outreached a hand to hold Tim's face. _"There was never meant to be..."_ he repeated, whispering it like gospel. 

“The whole world is a sandbox, Armie. And I am your person.”


End file.
